Delirium
by bones-angel
Summary: R/S. It's all in his mind, he thinks. It's not real. This can't be real.


**Delirium**

It wafts into the air, curving, fading, and finally disappearing.

He smiles, eyes half-lidded, gaze following the smoke's short journey.

He does this almost every day now - sitting here by the window, legs stretched out before him, and right hand holding a good stick of Marlboro's. He knows it's bad for his health - that's what the package tells him anyway - but he doesn't care. He hasn't got that long to live anyway, not at this rate. Hasn't got a reason to, either. These days, things have just gone to the dogs. He lets out a mocking huff, corners of his lips turning up in a sneer.

He takes another puff, inhaling deeply, imagining as though he could really feel the toxic fumes invade his lungs as he exhales slowly, eyes watching the smoke morbidly.

He doesn't like being alone. Never did. Never will. If anything, he'd rather die. At least he's got Uncle Alphard on the other side waiting for him, if not his friends. He shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath, tasting the bitter tobacco on his tongue. He doesn't want to remember.

It's been three weeks now. He's been nothing but miserable. He doesn't get to see them, not ever since that night. He sleeps elsewhere now. He knows the school so well, it isn't as hard as it used to be to find a nook where he could bury himself in for the night. He's a bit bitter, if anything, that no one comes looking for him. But maybe this is what he's good for, he thinks humorlessly, maybe he's meant to be alone. Never did belong anywhere anyway. So why start now?

He leans back against the cold stone wall. He turns automatically at the sound of schoolboys shouting, and looks down at the grounds. He doesn't know who they are, but in his mind's eyes, he knows he'll never get that anymore. He doesn't deserve it, and he's sure they think the same. His heart doesn't clench as much or as hard anymore when he's reminded of _them_. Maybe it's the cigarettes. All he knows is that he's gotten numb to it all. Doesn't expect it to change, not evermo-

"Sirius."

He doesn't think he'll ever hear that voice again. He looks down at the dying ember on the cigarette. Maybe it has hallucinogens. He doesn't know. He's only nicked it from a Muggleborn sometime ago, and has gotten hooked since. He knows it's addictive, otherwise why else can't he stop puffing? Besides, it tastes good, though bitter… but it tastes like –

"Sirius." Humping hippogriffs, he didn't know the stuff was this powerful. It sounds almost persistent. Almost caring. He snickers, voice cracking slightly. Then, he feels it. Warmth. Pressure. And he looks up, automatically, expecting the owls to stare reproachfully at him, as though they know _why he's here, why he doesn't go back, why he won't go back, why-_

"Are you cold, Padfoot?" He doesn't realize that he's been staring. Staring at a face almost lost in his dreams. Seems so long ago since he's last seen the face, the kind brown eyes, those chapped lips, and – Merlin, he shudders slightly, feeling himself being pulled firmly. It's soft, he thinks, soft but firm. It isn't the wall, he sniffs, because this smells so much better and it's warm. So warm. He nuzzles in, inhaling deeply, cigarette forgotten. This, he thinks, is intoxicating. So much more than tobacco. It's –

"You daft bugger." He feels the hum, the vibration throughout this … chest. He feels his hair being swept away from his face. He feels light touches along his face, circles rubbed on his back, and he whimpers. He feels it too, when the hold gets tighter, and his nose presses up against a corner. So soft, he thinks, and his tongue darts out a fraction, tasting it. It tastes delightful. Tastes just like –

"Get over it, Sirius. We still love you."

He stills. Stiffens. Barely daring to breathe. A moment passes, and he gulps. He croaks out an apology, and he feels it then. He feels lips pressed to the crown of his head, he feels them just lingering there, and he feels the cold air swooping in as those lips pull away.

"Let's go back."

And he follows.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I apologize for the shortness and for the delay that is so disproportionate to the length of the chapter. =P I'm sure you know what this chapter is about. Anyway, for the record, I do intend to update this series, although I'm very much tied up in another Remus/Sirius project - _Unintended Intentions_, which you can find on my profile. It's AU. :) That project will be more regularly updated than this, but perhaps when I'm done with that project I'll get on with this. :) Do enjoy your read, and leave a review, will you? Thanks~ xx

**Update: **I decided to move this from _Treatise_ to its own new home. XD it didn't flow with the style _Treatise_ was written in.


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